by Ted Dekker
“Oh, Alek,” she called lightly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
I had to smile. And she returned it. Then she checked the other door, another storeroom, in the same manner. This time I allowed myself half a laugh. We headed back down the hall.
“May I ask you a question?” I asked, feeling far more at ease.
She spun around, cocked her head, and eyed me mischievously. “Don’t tell me: you want to know why you’re so drawn to me.”
“Well . . .”
“You do, don’t you, Toma?”
What could I say?
“But you’re the one asking the questions, not me. So I will answer that question and tell you why you find me so attractive.” She came back to me. “It’s because I am, in some small way, you, Toma. I am what you long others to find in you.”
I was unprepared for this.
“No, don’t feel uneasy with that,” she said softly. “I’m only saying that you want the power I have over you. And who wouldn’t want to be able to draw others to themselves the way I draw you to me? I can give you that power, Toma. Vlad can. We all can.”
I could not answer. Perhaps she overestimated her effect on me, but I could hardly deny that I was in part drawn to her for this reason: where she showed boldness with me, I had shown only cowardice toward Lucine.
“Now ask me what you really wanted to ask,” she said, turning back down the hall. “I owe you any answer.”
“Natasha’s bedsheets were bloody. Do you know why?”
She hesitated. “Stefan bit her lip. The cut must have opened. When humans are bitten, they bleed.”
“But was she bitten again?”
“My brother is a consuming lover. You’ll have to ask him. Does it bother you?”
“Naturally. The sheets were wet with her blood! More than that, she was pale. And now she manages this stunning feat—this astounding tumble in the air—that not even I could do.”
“Ah, the aerial maneuvering. But even I could show you that, Toma. It’s not that difficult with a little practice and rivers of motivation.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
She turned, slid up to my ear, and whispered, “Love, my dear. Rivers of love.” Then she pulled back, winked, and threw open the door at the end of the hall.
I was going to ask if she meant Natasha’s love for Stefan, when my eyes caught sight of the room beyond. Another great hall, like the one inside the entrance, only slightly smaller.
At least twenty of the Russians sat or stood about in silence, eyes fixed upon us. The sight of so many dark eyes looking at me made me stop in my tracks. Sofia slipped her arm around my back.
“Vlad has given him to me to love,” she said, and nearly as one they seemed to lose interest in me. “Don’t worry, they are harmless lovers, not fighters.” She steered me to our right, taking my hand again. A cool hand now.
“How many live here?” I asked.
“Seventy-three.”
“So many? How is that possible? How can you even feed such a number?”
“With money you can do anything. We have our means, and thanks to Vlad, more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime.”
We crossed through the room, moved down a short hall, and came to a door made of wood that looked older than any of the others.
“Your man was with my sister the last time I saw him. Dasha. They’ve taken a bit of an interest in each other.” She pushed the door wide and we faced a flight of stairs chiseled from stone. It curved down and out of sight, lit by flickering orange light from below. “Watch your step.”
We descended into a round atrium brightly lit by two large torches. Between them was a single arched door, burned black. More tables, more books, more artifacts. The space was dry and smelled like cedarwood, a pleasing scent.
“Through here.” She opened the door.
I couldn’t get over the quantity of relics I’d laid my eyes on in the last ten minutes alone. To say that the duke was wealthy would understate his value. But how had he managed to place all these treasures here since purchasing the castle only a few months earlier?
Inside the door, yet another round atrium, this one with six doors.
“This is a dungeon?” I asked.
“Heavens, no. We’re in the subterranean levels. A system of tunnels that once provided harbor and escape for those who lived in the fortress. But it’s been largely changed. The sixth tunnel”— she turned to the door on our right—“is a work of wonder.”
Sofia put one hand on the door’s handle and paused. Then turned back.
“I should tell you, Toma. This is a place of temptation. Your man, Alek, isn’t weak willed, as you know. But Dasha is even more alluring than I.”
My curiosity had grown with each step through the castle, and I knew that I had to see what Alek had gotten himself into, because she was right. Alek, however impetuous, knew his limits. For him to come up here at all was a surprise. For him to be up here without Natasha for whom he’d come—an even greater one.
“Then take me to Dasha,” I said.
She hesitated. “I fell in love with you the first time I set eyes on you, Toma. So I will tell you, do not let my sister get inside your head. She and I have that ability, you must know. She can call to people when they look into her eyes, like I can.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Stay close to me, Toma. Don’t let her seduce you. That’s for me.”
She kissed me on the cheek, opened the door, and stepped past it before I could object to her renewed assumption that I was interested or inclined to be seduced. Her direct manner and courage were hard to ignore.
We entered a tunnel of sorts, hewn from rock, the kind you might expect to find moss and worms living in, but it was bone dry and lined with cedarwood. The floor was polished marble, the same I’d seen in the great ballroom. All was brightly illuminated with thick orange candles that ran along each side. How they lit the many candles I’d seen since entering the castle was beyond me. They must have had an army of servants, though I had not seen a single one.
Light laughter reached us from farther in.
There was excitement in Sofia’s voice as she grabbed my hand and urged me forward. “Let me show you. Remember, stay by me, yes? You are mine, not Dasha’s. Don’t let her get into your mind.”
“Sofia, you must not get the impression that I—”
She spun and placed a finger against my lips. “Later. They will hear.”
“Who—”
“Later.” Then she pulled me along.
We passed several doors and I thought I could hear murmuring voices behind some. But Sofia went farther until we came to twin doors on the right side. With only a pause at the doorway, she pushed her way in and stood at the entrance.
I peered over her shoulder at an expansive library. Thousands of volumes were neatly arranged on ancient cases that hugged the walls. A large crystal chandelier, brimming with white candles, lit the room, and below the lights, a grouping of stuffed sofas surrounded a low leather-covered table.
There was no one in the room that I could see, unless they hid in the shadows behind the bookcases.
Sofia walked in and immediately headed toward a door at the back of the library. But I stopped at the center and gazed about the room. It was most unusual to see such a place carved out of the rock below a fortress.
As in the halls upstairs, great paintings with ornately carved and gilded frames hung on all the walls not hidden by bookcases. Portraits, of both men and women, and by their dress I guessed those rendered had lived long ago. Most were handsome enough, but a few looked oddly disfigured to me.
The wall to my right was clear of bookcases, featuring instead one large writing desk with books stacked and open on its surface. Two lamps stood to either side of a single large painting directly above the desk. It too was a portrait, but not of any human.
This was an image of the same creature I’d seen carved in the dome of the ba
llroom, a large batlike being with the snout of a wolf and large wings folded around itself. What kind of strange religion or worship invoked such a being, I did not know, but it recalled stories I’d heard about deities in the Far East and in ancient times.
Thoughts of the church and monasteries flooded my mind. But surely, Vlad van Valerik was no monk.
“What is this?” I asked.
Sofia came up behind me. “Later,” she whispered. “Hurry. It’s just a painting.” She guided me by my arm and pushed open the door at the back of the library.
Inside, a heavily draped room filled with smoke and incense. Orange flames lapped at the oily air and cast shifting light over a round table at the center.
There lounged four Russians, three on armed chairs around the table, and the forth on a green couch that faced a fireplace. I could see only her shoulders and head. I recognized only one man, Simion, from the dinner party at the Cantemir estate. No sign of Alek. They talked in low tones, chuckling, fingers toying with brass goblets.
Their dark eyes turned lazily to us. I would ask about those dark eyes. Why did they all have the same here, and why did their eyes look golden in different light, as I’d seen at the Cantemir estate?
“Hello, Dasha,” Sofia said. “I’ve brought my lover.”
It wasn’t my place to object here.
Conversation stalled. The woman on the couch faced us. I was staring at Sofia’s sister, and I could see the resemblance. Older, I guessed. Her eyes bored into mine, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Hello, beautiful Toma.
This from her, clearly in my mind. How it was possible I could neither guess nor dwell upon.
You are mine, Toma.
This from Sofia. Or perhaps all of it was only in my mind, bent as I was by this strange castle. I had heard Lucine calling to me a hundred times these last few days. But not like this, not so vividly like a voice in my head. Evidently only these sisters and others like them had that ability.
Let us see you, beautiful man. Take your shirt off for us. This from Dasha.
Her eyes went to Sofia. “So nice of you to join us, Sister,” she said. “You’ve come to play?”
“No,” I said. “I’m here for my man Alek.”
A man, until now hidden by the stuffed green back of the sofa, pushed himself up. Alek. His hair was tangled and his eyes were wide, still blue by the light. He wore a white shirt half undone and slacks. No jacket.
“Toma?”
He tried to get to his feet, but the woman had to move first. He clambered up and faced me, smiling like a delighted child.
“You’ve come!”
Alek leaped over the couch and hurried up to me. He gave me a tight hug—something he’d only done once, while weeping at the loss of our friend Johan on a battlefield in Turkey—then stepped back. “You’ve come, my friend.”
“What is the meaning here?”
“Love, my friend. Decadence. And revelry!” His face suddenly flattened and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is there a problem at the estate?”
“Yes, Alek. There is. The estate is missing you.”
He broke into a grin. “Of course! I am needed.” He turned to the others. “I am loved and dearly missed. What did I tell you? Everywhere I go they desperately need Alek!”
“As do I, lover,” Dasha cooed, standing now. She wore a short red dress that clung to her form and covered only her upper thighs. No stockings or shoes. Rounding the couch she walked up to Alek, snaked her arms around his waist, and gazed up at him. “As do I.”
They both looked at me wearing dumb grins.
“You want to take him from me?” Dasha asked.
I hesitated. Truthfully, they looked so contented that I didn’t feel as compelled as I had only minutes ago. This was surely because of my own state of mind, having for so many days now been in a state of love itself.
I envied Alek for the lover who craved him.
“Alek, this is not why we are here,” I said.
He blinked, then loosed himself from her arms and led me into the corner. He spoke in a low voice, turned away from the others.
“No, you’re wrong, Toma. All is well at the estate, yes?”
“Yes. But—”
“And half of our charge is here, not there.”
Natasha.
“We will take Natasha with us,” I said.
“No, my friend, you will not. She has a mind of her own. She follows her own heart, and that heart is here. She will return in the morning as she wishes.”
“And your heart, Alek? I see it’s here as well.”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at his lover. “Yes, well, there is that. But I am fully aware of how critical my charge is, and I insist on fulfilling my duty to keep a watchful eye on Natasha.”
However twisted his motivations, he made perfect sense. And he was right. Forcing Natasha back to the estate would be unacceptable protocol.
“Quite convenient,” I said.
“Quite,” he agreed.
And there it was.
“So you do see a danger here, then?” I asked.
“No, not at all. At first I thought so, but then I realized that however different this coven is, they are only lovers, not fighters, and they will consume only what is given. What better virtue in love can there be? I can assure you, there is no danger here, not even a drop.”
“Why do they have dark eyes? Why can I hear their voices? How can Natasha move like a tumbler at a circus? None of this bothers you?”
“They have dark eyes because of their diet. You can’t hear their voices; you only interpret what you want to hear because they call to your heart. And I haven’t seen Natasha move like a performer, so that is new to me.”
He gripped both of my shoulders and spoke in an earnest whisper, eyes bright. “The power of love in these halls is fantastic, Toma. These Russians have found an elixir of sensuality and passion that cannot be found in all the world, I tell you. You must stay for a while. If you stay and are bothered, then leave.”
I was now drawn, I cannot lie. And Alek took my hesitation as answer enough.
He put his arm around my shoulders and turned me back to the group. “My friends, I give you Toma Nicolescu, slayer of wicked infidels, hero of Russia, servant of Her Majesty, Catherine the Great, friend to us all!”
THIRTEEN
The moon was high and bright when Lucine rounded the bend that first offered her sight of the Castle Castile, and she pulled the mare up, stunned by the sheer scope of the behemoth across the valley. What was she thinking, coming up here alone?
But she wasn’t alone. Natasha was up there. And Alek. And Toma, the ferocious warrior who would throw himself over a hole in the road if it would save her life, surely. Mother had made her claims of Toma’s lack of interest in her, but if nothing else, he was indeed loyal to the bone and sworn to protect her. Staring up at the monolithic structure illuminated by moonlight, she felt drawn to that loyalty.
To Toma.
This is what she told herself as she headed on. Now that Mother had thrown down the gauntlet, casting Toma in such a negative light next to the duke, her mind had more deeply explored her own opinion of the warrior.
She’d toyed with him in her own way, even that first night when she mistook his loyalty for attraction. Why? Why had she flirted with him at all? She had, hadn’t she, if only a little? Then why?
The answer was simple: she longed to be loved. Was that so careless? Who did not long to be loved?
As she rushed up the mountain, her mind searched back through each time they’d been together. The looks, the words, the kiss she’d given him on his chin. The kinds of things Natasha did by rote as a way to test or maintain opportunity.
Did this mean she was taken by him? No, because he had made it clear that he would not be interested in her beyond his charge. But what if he did love her?
The thought made her heart quicken, which surprised her. And it made her even m
ore eager to dismiss Vlad van Valerik, regardless of Mother’s demands.
She recognized Toma’s stallion and she tied her mare off next to it. How long had he been here? What if harm had come to him?
What if they had fallen on him and her sister and killed both of them?
She went up the stone stairs with a tremble in her legs, thinking she would be wiser by far to flee back to her horse and fly down the mountain. But Natasha was here, and not for the first time . . .
The door opening when she was only halfway up the stairs interrupted her thoughts. A young man dressed in a frock stepped out and looked down at her.
“Are you a party pooper as well, then?”
She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.
“Well, get out of the cold if you must. He’s waiting for you.”
“Who is? I’m sorry, I . . .” Words were flowing like tar.
“You are Lucine Cantemir?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“I am called Johannes. Then get yourself up here quickly. You’re expected. But I must insist on one thing. Yes?”
She climbed the stairs, still at a loss. She was expected? They’d seen her as she approached, of course.
“Yes?” the man asked again.
“Yes.”
“You must not spoil any fun like the last one. You must play with us and play our games.”
She climbed the last step. “Is Toma Nicolescu here?”
“My, he didn’t tell me how beautiful you are.” Johannes reached out and touched her dark hair. “An exquisite creature. So many will like you.”
“Please, sir. I’m not your toy to play with. I demand to be taken to Toma, the warrior who rides that black stallion down there.”
“Demands. Always demands. If he hadn’t sent me to collect you, I might leave you out here in the cold, because I can tell you’re not going to play nice.”
“Then take me to the duke. Immediately.”
His right brow arched over a dark eye. “So very demanding. As you insist, then. Follow me.”
The Russian led her into the castle through a set of inner doors that opened to a grand hall with a large domed ceiling. The room was lit by a hundred candles, at least, but it was vacant.
